Good Afternoon Ms Black
by imbue random pen name here
Summary: Hermione is a twenty nine year old school teacher in America after the loss of the Second Wizarding War, after a surprise visit she is launched forty years into the past back into Europe, with a teaching degree under her belt she applies for the defense against the dark arts position, can Hermione deal with dodging a dark lords curse and the eyes of a certain raven haired student.
1. Loss Of Pride

Shock, it was the only thing going through her mind. She stared out into the clearing at the scorched flesh that used to be the boy who lived. She couldn't believe, she knew in a few seconds he would rise up and fight for her and all the others around her. He can't be dead. A resounding cry from her side came about and with it the sounds of fighting commenced again. She knew that the number of death eaters dwindled to that of the Lord and his second in command, but that wasn't counting the magical peons that still assaulted the grounds so when she came face to face with the woman from her nightmares, she gave up. The pale woman looked upon her in disgust.

"Oh my, how the mighty have fallen. Has the lion been tamed with the death of her pride?" Bellatrix laughs gleefully to herself.

"Oh Muddy this is beneath me, back when you had that fight in you and the desire to live I would of given you my time of day to end your misery, but no longer ta ta Muddy."

With that the dark witch walked away with her back turned to the once proud Gryffindor. Not even worthy of a warrior's death she slumps over. That old fool, trusting the fate of the wizarding world in the hands of uninformed children. Hermione slowly stared out into the battlefield, the bodies of her friends and peers lay like a sea of ruin and despair before her. No more, she couldn't take it anymore. With a bright red flare from her wand coupled with her amplified voice she cries out her surrender.

"Please no more, you've won. My friend is dead, there is no Dumbledore, there is no order, there is no fight. Please you're attacking children that have only been defending their home. Please I beg you let us bury our dead with dignity and be done with this bloodshed."

A small hush befalls the battlefield as the lone cub's words seep in. No response is given just a small gesture from the snake like wizard, a sigh escapes the lips of his second and with that they vanish in their signature black smoke, the remaining creatures and lesser magical combatants follow suit and slowly disperse from the conflict. Hermione starts rounding up the teachers and other adults, to her eternal dismay the body of the head of her house lay prone and lifeless a few meters away from her. The only surviving Weasley is that of a young Ginny, her tears hot and fresh on her face as she sees the others lay scattered about haphazardly.

There are no words amongst the living, Luna's eyes are as lifeless as the corpse of Neville, as she casually walks around his bloated body, the teachers aren't fairing much better. Sprout and Sybill can't hold in their tears as they pass the mutilated body of Flitwick, the Tonks family lay cold, but together their hands clasped so tightly that not even death could tear them apart. The bodies are hurried and loved ones mourned on the battle scorched field, the lull subsides and people look longingly to the castle. The silence weighed heavily on the group as Hermione lead them back into their home.

Counts were taken and casualties were accounted for, the family like members of Hogwarts castle reduced to nothing, but numbers on a small notepad. Hermione retreated to the Gryffindor commons to try and escape the questioning stares of the people around her. She needed time to think and to process the loss that has befallen her. After a quick silencing charm she looks down and realizes that she still has the wand of one Bellatrix Lestrange. The same woman that took the life of her mentor. Her grip tightens as hot tears roll down her cheeks, she had a clear shot at the demented witch, when her back was turned. If she wasn't such a coward, maybe McGonagall would still be here to impart her words of wisdom and give hope to the hopeless.

A harsh flick and the bedpost next to her shatters with a quick blasting spell, her emotions settle slowly as she witnesses the destruction of the furniture. A realization occurs. Her disgust has vanished, her hate for the stick of walnut in front of her is gone. Refusing to look into it, she collapses in pure exhaust pulling the blankets over herself as she settles into a guilt ridden sleep.

The sun slips slowly out from the clouds basking the castle in light, the mood somber and melancholic as the students rise to the new day. An understanding of the situation dawns on them, Voldemort has won, the order has fallen, and now nothing stands in the way of the dark lord's desires. The masses huddle in the commons awaiting some ounce of normalency from either an elder's hopeful word or even just the taste of a hogwarts breakfast. With neither in sight, Madame Pomfrey stood and with a deep sadness spoke out.

"Dearest students, we have been through an ordeal together. Something we will never forget, owls will be sent and we will start evacuating the school. To those…."

Her vision casts towards the ground and with a soft sigh. "To those with no home to go back to, you may stay here. No student shall go without food nor housing as long as this castle stands."

The last few words were sad through tears as her gaze befalls the remaining hogwarts population. Hermione looks out the hope diminished from her, no kinds words would bring her friends back, her parents were gone somewhere in Australia. She had nothing to go back to, her gaze twitched from her mourning classmates to her weeping teachers until it settled on a window facing out overlooking the lake and what lies across the pond.

The hours after passed in a blur, until Hermione finds herself in front of the same gargoyle that preceded all the mistakes she made throughout her years, a feeling grew in her, rising up from her left arm to her chest. A hatred started to brew within her. 'Why us, we were children. Not pawns to be sacrificed for some old man's version of the greater good.'

With clenched fists she lashed out casting another blasting charm into the smug looking face of the stone statue before her. Regret crossed her features quickly replaced with determination. She steps over the rubble and proceeds to ascend up the spiral staircase into the headmasters quarters. Her anger subsides as it's replaced with empty loss, her sight drifts from wall to wall, the decorating of her mentor adorning the scene around her. A small note lies on top of the desk, the remainder of the surface barren and clear.

With shaking fingers she reaches for the pale parchment. 'If you are reading this, I am most likely gone from this world. Having perished in the battle with you-know-who I can only hope that it was not in vain and that the world I had left behind is one of equality and love. The matters of my belongings is another matter. Having born no children of my own I leave behind my vaults and belongings to my star pupil Hermione Jean Granger, may you overcome the challenges and obstacles you face, but I know as long as you have your friends you can overcome anything. With love and everlasting support, Minerva Mcgonagall.'

Hermione couldn't take it anymore. The floodgates had broken and she was there on her knees weeping, if those tears were for her friends, mentor, or even parents she will never know. Every breath came with a wretched sob filled with regret and disappointment. Her mind flooded with wishful thinking and hindsight, but nothing could bring them back to her. With her resolve slowly returning she makes it to her feet, she scours the office for anything to help. She slowly comes to the conclusion that she can't stay here.

She can't stay in Europe with that monster on the loose, she starts grabbing objects of either sentimental value or of a more practical application. Her arm burns as she turns towards a small dresser. She starts looking through it, opening and slamming drawers like a mad woman, she had no idea what had taken her with such glee, but the idea of going through Mcgonagall's drawers has drawn this strange feeling from her. A small twinkle catches her eye, the time turner just laid there untouched. Memories flooded her thoughts as her fingers closes around the small object. She ties it gently around her neck before taking a short look around the disheveled space, with a mumbled farewell and a soft pop she vanishes.


	2. The New House

The ripping winds and freezing rain assaulting her senses were the first feelings she had on her arrival to Mount Greylock, with a quick rummage through her expanded bag her fingers brush against the warm polyester of her rain cloak. Hermione fastens it and looks around the nature filled landscape, she had heard about a wizarding school in North America located near the mountain called Ilvermorny. She held her wand out with an attempt to locate nearby magical wards, her small grin vanishes as she's unable to feel anything.

Her eyes fall on a side trail leading up the mountain, confidence in her bag having all her camping needs, she ascends up the steep incline a few yards before transfiguring her trainers into dragonhide boots hoping that along with helping her climb up the boots will also be a small hint to others that she is a witch. After nearly half an hour of walking the rain and wind continue to soak into her cloak, with a quick flick she attempts a simple hot-air charm only for her to stand there waving her wand like a loon, a smile graced her lips as she continues up the mountain pass now the rain and cold bring only determination. The soft crunch of the hardened dirt start giving way for soft and wet mud, Hermione nearly stumbles as her boot sinks up to her calf, the grimey slime like substance feels like quick sand as she attempts to pull her boot out. With a loud sigh and a small mumble of "bloody hell."

She stowed her wand before bending over plunging her hands into the mud, untying her boot she wrenches her foot from its grasp and proceeds to take her other heavy boot off, discarding it in the dirt. Each step cold and grainey with the unrelenting rain, the steep incline, and Hermione swore she started to see snowflakes. Needless to say she was miserable, her fingers shook and her teeth chattered from the cold, time passed without much thought. Hours or minutes, she couldn't tell how long she had been scaling this thing, by the dried mud between her toes she guessed that the journey had taken about two hours.

As she passed an abnormally large rock untouched by the snowfall she started to feel warmth spreading through her, it wasn't the warm feeling of numbness descending on her, it wasn't natural warmth. With hope reignited she pulls her curved wand out and casts a quick scourgify after that a nearby mound of rocks becomes a pair of warm boots, slipping those on she cast another spell, a huge grin spreads across her face as she feels the presence of a disillusionist charm near the rock face.

With renewed vigor she jogs over to the wall and taps on it gently dispelling the illusion to reveal a small gateway leading into the mountain itself. With one step she finds herself on the other side, behind her a solid looking wall, in front of her lie an immense cavern with a castle lying perfectly in the middle of it all. As she walks towards the castle she makes it to the door right as it opens before her a witch dressed in long light green approaches her, the witches eyes spoke of countless battles one, the wrinkles accompanying them bespoke her age, along with the long ashen hair falling from her shoulder.

Her voice was flat and sounded of a grave. "Miss, are you lost? The school year is half over and you don't look like one of my students."

Hermione looked up at her, with a tinge of sadness, "Madam I'm from Hogwarts, or at least what's left of it. Our school was attacked by a pureblood fanatic, all my friends perished in the war and now nobody can stop him from hunting my kind and I down. Ilvermorny was the only place I could think to go to."

The older witch had a sad look on her face as she walked closer to the bushy haired student and put a hand on her shoulder, the silent look spoke volumes to the young girl.

"Little one my name is Corrigan Ivory, I am the headmistress at this school, I'm sorry if the journey here was hard, but we don't have the same benefits of our location that Hogwarts does, but it just shows your courage and resolve, it you would accept it you may finish your school year here, our new Dark Arts teacher will be here in a few days to finish the year out."

Hermione's eyes widened slightly at first at the prospect of actually graduating from a wizarding school, her thoughts darkened as she heard that the dark arts were being taught here.

"Madame Ivory do you believe in blood purity?"

The question was laced with a hint of fear, the older witches head turns slightly sideways.

"This school was founded on the principles that any and every being who can perform magic is allowed to learn how to control and harness it."

"But why teach the dark arts then?" Hermione quickly interjected.

"Well we can't say we are unbiased if we limit what can and can't be learned, that is how evil is made. Ostracizing someone for their want to learn is exactly what this school is against. Along with the fact that if dark magic is used against you, you will know how to defend yourself while also being able to respond in kind. We teach equality here, if someone attacks you with a killing curse, should you stun them and wait for them to get up and cast the same curse again?"

Hermione could feel how strongly this woman felt on the subject and thought best to herself to just agree regardless of her own opinions.

"I see and understand your reasoning Headmistress, I would love to have this opportunity, do you have the same housing as hogwarts?"

A smile graced the wizened woman's lips as she led Hermione deeper into the cavern, stopping in front of four large stone statues she moves hermione forward and steps back a few paces. Hermione looks up at the strange rock carving, noticing the large bird, then a horned serpent with crystal eyes, along with a small humanoid looking creature with a bow and a quiver of arrows, and finally a sleek panther statue. While gazing at the carvings she notices that the thunder bird stands and beats its wings towards her while the serpents crystal eyes glow a deep green.

She turns towards the older witch again confusion blatantly gracing her features. "I'm assuming those are the four different houses, what I don't understand is how I was selected by two of them?"

"We believe more in choice then the opinions of sentient rock, yes you are limited by those that chose you, but very seldom are cases where only one house chooses a student, you may even have traits from all four, who am I to decide for you which traits you embody the most?"

Hermione feels taken back by the implications and slightly upset of the memories of a certain headmaster that took a fair amount of her choices away. "Well what do the statues and houses mean exactly?" Hermione asks now eager to learn more about this school and their traditions. **(A/N This next line is a direct quote from J.K Rowling about** **Ilvermorny.)**

"It is sometimes said of the Ilvermorny houses that they represent the whole witch or wizard: the mind is represented by Horned Serpent; the body, Wampus; the heart, Pukwudgie and the soul, Thunderbird. Others say that Horned Serpent favours scholars, Wampus, warriors, Pukwudgie, healers and Thunderbird, adventurers." (Rowling)

The headmistress says always happy to regale an eager mind. "Whenever you are ready just point to the statue you share the most with and we will get you new robes and a class schedule befitting of a seventh year."

Hermione looks up at the statutes again. 'Well I believe I am more of a scholar in most aspects of my life, but I am just not a fan of snakes and recently my days have been filled with more adventure.' Her left hand raises and she decides her house for the school year.


End file.
